


Window

by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)



Series: Lost Boys [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Afternoon delight, Anal Sex, Exhibitionism, M/M, PWP, Quickies, Sex Toys, fabric kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 04:52:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphim_grace/pseuds/DarkAthena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a regular Wednesday Afternoon</p>
            </blockquote>





	Window

Derek was late. Every Wednesday when everyone else was at lacrosse Derek and Stiles had a standing dinner date. In that Stiles needed fed and Derek was dinner. It worked out fabulously for everyone involved even if it was what Laura called married sex, in that it was often perfunctory if still amazing. Stiles liked having sex with Derek, and even boring married sex was awesome. But Derek was late.

Derek was late enough that everyone else had gotten back from lacrosse, and didn't it suck that the whole pack, minus Erica, got to play lacrosse but Stiles couldn't because it was okay to wolf out on the field but the idea of turning two teams into an orgy because he hadn't quite got control of his glamour and someone might touch him was out. You'd think the idea of ten or so boys writhing in ecstasy would be preferable to someone getting torn in two as a werewolf chewed on their spleen but Laura just sighed and went they wear pads, Stiles, like it was all the answer they needed. You accidentally cause one couple to vanish into the janitor's closet one little time and that was it, you had to give up organised sports. 

Peter told him to appreciate being able to attend high school at all because most fae kids were home schooled for a reason.

And Derek was late.

So he might have been a little tetchy. He was hungry, and the huge spread that Peter had put on after school, and he hated having to ride to and from school in Peter's boring lexus, had done little more than lighten it. He had eaten a whole loaf of bread stuffed with cheese and meat, then half a jar of nutella.

And Derek was late.

The wii was set up to the TV because Laura would have his hide, tanned and hung over the fire, if he tried to go out when he was like this. Derek had gotten him a copy of MadWorld that he and Stiles' dad had appropriated from a meth lab, because it was just going to be destroyed and it was an amazing game, but Stiles was sure that neither of them had realised quite how violent it was, enough that even Peter got a bit squeamish if they played it downstairs, but Man Darts was looking a little appealing. Sometimes you just needed to throw psycho killers into a giant fan for points.

Stiles knew if his dad knew the true content of the game it would have got destroyed with the rest of the meth lab. His dad might have lit the match in the incinerator. Hell he would have offered the grill at their old house for the job. The Sheriff didn't like Stiles playing games that were excessively violent, he wasn't even that keen on call of duty before it involved zombie nazis, then he just got hooked and the Xbox moved downstairs where he and Peter engaged in long drawn out death-matches with kids on the internet, who were often met with "do your parents know what you're playing" as a mind-game.

But Derek was late.

Stiles knew, intellectually, why Derek was late. There had been a rash of expensive car thefts going through the town and both Derek and Stiles' dad were working the case and sometimes things happened no matter how well made the plans of men and mice. 

That was a point, he could read a book. House arrest didn't mean he had nothing to do. There was plenty he could do, however there wasn't much Stiles actually wanted to do.

He could jerk off.

But the problem with jerking off was that it didn't do anything for the hunger and the whole point of these weekly married sex meetings was that Stiles didn't get so hungry he ate someone. He was pretty sure it was hyperbole on Laura's part but there was the potential that it could happen, and besides who would turn down the opportunity to have sex with Derek Hale once a week just because. Not Stiles, that was for sure.

Outside the window Isaac and Scott were throwing about a football because they could, because they weren't under house arrest, they were laughing and joking, so Stiles decided to throw caution to the wind and opened the window. "Hey," he shouted down to them, "how was practice?" This was allowed, he was still in the house - hell he was still in the bedroom, Laura couldn't shout at him for using the perfectly good sash loopholes in the side of the house.

"I miss you at practice." Isaac called back throwing the ball to Scott, "the bench is so much colder without your fat ass on it."

"and you'd know, bench boy." Scott laughed.

"Not all of us can be co-captain with Jackson," Isaac laughed, "Scott and Jackson sitting in a tree, K I," Scott tackled him. Some things never changed whether or not Stiles was on house arrest. 

"Quiet," Derek whispered into his ear, his hand slipping down the back of his shorts and Stiles couldn't help a smile, not because Derek enjoyed creeping up on people announced, "don't let them know." 

Scott had Isaac in a headlock but it didn't look to hold as Derek dropped back unto the floor behind Stiles and pulled his shorts with him, they were shouting obscenities at the other as if they were brothers and not just pack-mates and it made Stiles smile, and he knew that watching them Laura was smiling too, and he gave it a couple more minutes before one of two things happened, Laura broke it up and sent them on laps of the preserve or Boyd joined in and dominated both of them. Sometimes it was Peter but he was up to something in the kitchen so it was going to be Boyd. Peter is happy for the boys to play as long as it's outside and not in danger of tearing his carpet of scuffing his antique mahogany dining table. "Guys, come on," Stiles calls to them, "Laura'll make you do laps again." Laura's laps include swimming and are brutal, Stiles has had to do them too.

Derek's hand found the cleft of his ass, wet with lube, but even if someone stood level with the window they wouldn't see him, as he pressed the pad of his thumb to the pucker of Stiles' ass and twisted. Stiles did his best to swallow his grunt, his hands on the sill of the window and clutching, because of course Derek was a kinky bastard.

"Ha," Isaac called back, pulling Scott into a back breaker, a wrestling move not possible outside of choreography and lycanthropy, "I laugh at Laura's laps."

Derek pushed something tapered and cold and slick with lube into Stiles' ass. 

Gritting his teeth against the intrusion of something not much bigger than a finger, "I laugh at you laughing at Laura's laps, and I will laugh even harder when she gives you them," Derek was working him open with the toy, a slim silver coloured plastic thing with ridges and that normally buzzed but wasn't because Derek was being quiet because of the wolves outside who knew what was supposed to happen on a Wednesday afternoon but didn't know he was there and, fuck, it was hot.

"She has to catch us," Scott said flipping around so he had Isaac under him because they never missed the opportunity to wrestle, even in the house - which is why Peter would wolf out and throw them both out whenever they did - that meant Laura having to get involved to stop Peter from chewing their faces off because that was a wolf who was house proud. 

"Think you can take something a little bigger?" Derek whispered, his mouth against the meat of Stiles' left buttock and his teeth scraping over it. 

Stiles made a flapping gesture behind with his hand. "Laura can run faster than both of you assholes." Stiles shouted down whilst hoping beyond hope that Derek took the hint, which he did, with slick silicon softness pushing against his hole, and sliding in because the other toy hadn't quite opened him enough, and he licked his lips as Isaac shouted something that sounded like "oh shit," and both of them took off into the underbrush with a large dark shadow fast behind them. It was a fifty fifty thing if it was Boyd or Laura.

"Not here," Stiles grunted as the toy bottomed out, the soft ears of the rabbit on the bullet touching his balls, "the drapes." The curtains in question were a lovely soft dark blue velvet and although Derek had a terrible fabric kink, he loved the textures and colours and the way they made Stiles' skin look, it meant running the risk of getting them dry cleaned before Peter noticed - because cum stains on velvet were a disembowelling offence - and that wasn't just a threat. 

Derek might have wanted to tear down the drapes, to lay them over the bed and deposit Stiles completely naked upon them for the contrast of velvet and skin and little dark moles - but disembowelling hurt enough that he made a mental note to just buy a velvet throw for the bed instead.

And Derek manhandled him so that he was bent over the bed because they had cheap Walmart bedding which could just go in the washing machine because Peter knew when to call it quits and when to fight for rich expensive bedding - and that meant Stiles didn't get the flannel sheets the rest of them got which just wasn't fair. With a kiss to the dimples at the base of his back, where Laura wore her triskelion in a wide woven tattooed band that she would murder anyone for calling a tramp stamp Derek turned on the vibrator. 

If it wasn't for the fist that Stiles had in his mouth it wouldn't have just been Isaac and Scott that would have heard him yell - hell the entire town would, as the vibrations ran through the shaft and the little silicon ears tickled the back of his balls in almost enough sensation. "Fuck, fuck, you fucking fucker, I fucking hate you." Except he really didn't because it was almost good enough, almost enough.

"I have to get back to the station." Derek says evenly twisting his wrist as he thrusts the toy into Stiles, "your dad told everyone I'd left something at the house. I have to bring back food."

"I fucking fucking hate you, fucker," the buzz was right against his balls, "let me fucking kiss you, wanna get you off, don't want this ngyerh," Stiles was tossing his head back and forth. Derek lifted Stiles thigh with one hand, the other using the infernal rabbit with slick wet slapping noises over the buzz and flipped him with as much ease as if he was a pancake, leaning down to let Stiles kiss him, then used his free hand to find the box of tissues. With a handful of kleenex he leant in, wrapped that hand about Stiles' cock, not moving it, and kissed him, letting Stiles take all the chi he wanted, and it was the best way to shut Stiles up, even if it was only for a moment, because it felt like fireworks and electric sparks and grass growing and god-damn, as Stiles just sucked it down, hips jerking up into the kleenex and then slipping lax as his arms wrapped around Derek's neck.

When he pulled back, "really fucking hate you right now." Derek slipped the toy away, placing it down on a towel to clean when Stiles could think.

"I know," Derek grinned at him, before nipping a kiss at his lips, "but I was thinking, maybe tonight when we're not so busy you can have a proper feed," he carefully pulled Stiles' shorts back up from around his left ankle, tucking the right foot into them before he pulled them up, "when you fuck me."

Judging by how Stiles threw his arm over his face with a groan he was more than okay with that.

Outside the window Derek could hear Boyd say as dropping a bite unto the soft meat of Stiles' thigh like a promise for later, "that buzzing has stopped, must have been a bee."


End file.
